


Isn't It Ironic

by williamastankova



Category: Memeulous, Video Blogging RPF, WillNE, imallexx - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, George tries on a jumpsuit, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, WillNE match maker extraordinaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: George has the idea of ironically trying on clothes for a video, and he finds he rather likes one of the pieces. He's not the only one...





	Isn't It Ironic

**Author's Note:**

> a little thing I wrote when I became inspired. apologies for any continuity errors & such. enjoy regardless :)

Let it be said above all that George was a proud man. Not overly-cocky, verging-on-annoying proud, but he couldn't remember ever feeling challenged in his manhood, at least not in recent years. Sure, when he was younger, growing up, he'd felt a little intimidated when his friends made jokes about his height and stature, but otherwise he'd been pretty pleased with himself and his appearance, and nowadays he could sincerely laugh along to the jokes.

This is important to note because, in context, it provides a more apt look into why George decided to do what he did in the first place. One day, after having a scroll about on the internet, various websites and such, trying to figure out what to do for his next video, he fell upon the idea of trying on a 'haul', and couldn't get it out of his mind. Of course, this wouldn't be a sincere video, but rather one to mock other people's videos which were, to say the least, not fantastic. He'd ordered a couple of things from different websites, making a note of what he'd ordered, how much it'd costed, and then when they were due, and so, just under a week later, they arrived.

At first, the video was going well. He'd introduced it, managing not to choke to death on the cloth covering the half of his face that his glasses and cap weren't. He'd gathered all the clothes into one space, and was fumbling about, trying to pick out the articles he felt he could say the most about, and tell some jokes in the mean time. He did a few pieces, feeling content with how the video had been going so far, but when he went to pick out the next outfit, he stopped. He eyed the clothing intently, feeling something strange - something different about it - and then went for the top beside it. In fact, by the time the video had ended, he hadn't even touched the garment, let alone worn it and verbally torn it to shreds. No, he felt something about this one, something was different, so he ended the video and removed his mask, then picked it from the box and stood before his mirror.

The piece he'd purposefully been avoiding was a relatively simple one: a navy jumpsuit, cut to just below the knee, with numerous white striped running vertically down it. When he really thought about it, there wasn't _really_  anything special about the outfit, but within him something about it just felt new. Unlike the pretentious-coloured items he'd tried on for the video, this looked... nice. There wasn't another word for it, at least not that George could think of, so he settled. The outfit was nice.

He lifted it by the shoulders, hands by his neck, and messed with it until it sat against his form and he could almost imagine how it might look on him. Then again, this still wasn't quite right, so before he could really think about what he was going to do, he began removing the tight t-shirt he'd left on after the video ended and undid the bottoms he'd been wearing, leaving him standing alone, almost-but-not-quite naked in his room, staring at the jumpsuit.

It didn't take long before he was moving again, now feeling there was no barrier between him and knowing how the item would look on his body. He paused only briefly to breathe, silently praying there wasn't an issue with sizing, then stepped one foot into the leg hole, then the other. So good so far, he had to grant himself, then he began pulling the rest of the jumpsuit up his body.

Now, the fact that George was a proud man is also key at this point, too, because when the cloth was completely covering his body and he'd fastened up the last of the buttons and tied a little bow in the fabric belt at the front, he was almost satisfied. Yes, he looked good and, though the length was a little too long for him, his pride made him realise that this wasn't so important, and that he really needn't have invested in any heels or alternative boots to add inches to his height. The issue came, however, when he realised that the buttons themselves didn't fasten the entire way up his torso.

He paused once more, taking a long look at himself in his reflection. He found that, despite this minor nuisance, he really did look good. No, actually, now that his mind was a little less occupied, he could think of more words than a year 2 - he looked undeniably _attractive_. He'd never really described himself in such a way, but he might have even gone so far as to admit that he looked _hot_. The way the silky fabric felt on his skin - like a kiss of heaven, brushing warmly against his skin - was an added bonus, of course, but he thought privately that he might have found a new style to try out in his every day life.

It was then that he heard it. It wasn't so loud as to be considered universally obvious, but the silence of his room and the sharpness of his hearing was what caused him to hear it. A slight noise from outside of his door - which was, as he saw now, ajar - and a quiet shushing following it made him launch into some sort of panic mode. He jumped, absently messed with his hair, and then put on a brave face as he marched over to the door and swung it open.

There, in the hallway, stood his two friends, Will and Alex. The latter had developed a bloom across his face, red as the petals of a rose, while the other at least had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. George forced himself to look stern as he spoke.

"What the _fuck_  are you two doing?"

The pair of them spluttered, each looking to the other to explain away the situation, and when they simultaneously reached the conclusion that there was no plausible excuse, the older man spoke up for them.  
"Alex thinks you're fit."

The named and shamed man looked betrayed, then took out his dismay in the form of a solid punch to Will's chest, which resounded in the most hollow way. Even still, Alex took no measures to defend himself verbally, or even state that the claim wasn't true, but only met George's eye with a look of 'oops' painted across his pale features.

Will looked between the two, registering both the softened look on George's face and the borderline submissive look on Alex's and then, brows furrowing with confusion and sudden realisation, he slipped out from between the two men and, consequently, ejected himself from the conversation - or, newly, the lack thereof.

The last he heard, there was a quick sentence uttered, and then the sound of George's bedroom door being shut over rather abruptly. A little worried, he cast a swift look over his shoulder to where his friends had been stood previously, only to find an empty space in their wake. This, in the best way possible, was the deciding factor that Will would be sleeping with sound-proof earmuffs that night.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the art of a good friend of mine! find her on twitter @louVEVO_  
> (i mean, look at this sassy george. how can you not love it)


End file.
